


The Beast Within the Burden

by breezus, SpaMightWrite



Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Collaboration, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breezus/pseuds/breezus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler Breeze is a model struggling for a spotlight. William Regal is a hitman. Through circumstances beyond their control, they end up having to stick together, no matter how much they annoy each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-authored by my RP buddy, the lovely and wonderful Breezus. It started out as the answer to an ask meme and we were far too fucked up about it not to write it. Murder AU! Enjooooy!

It was cold now - the water dripping from his hair and his clothes. The drops coming from his eyes and streaming down his cheeks, however, burned hot until they landed against his arms. He shivered, his knees pulled tight against his chest. It did nothing to warm him, and little to comfort his breathing, either.

The shower had started out scalding, turning his golden skin as red and blotchy as his eyes. Yet by the time it had turned cold, his t-shirt and jeans were still stained with an unmistakable splatter of red.

The bloom of color caught his eye. He felt bile at the back of his throat again, his heart seemingly trying to escape through his ribcage. Sobs began anew and stung his already raw throat.

How could this have happened? He’d had so much potential, so much to live for, and he deserved every good thing that could ever happen to him. And all of his success and happiness was draining slowly from the body lying just yards away on the floor in the other room.

Tyler Breeze was far too gorgeous to go to prison for murder.

Murder. _Murder_. It had been a mistake. The whole thing had been a mistake. He didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Randy was the one who had broken the wine bottle! And then it was just there in Tyler’s hand and Randy was coming at him and it was self-defense! Tyler hadn’t meant to kill him; he’d seen that look in Randy’s eyes before, he knew what was coming. The bottle was meant to ward him off. He couldn’t have known Randy was going to trip.

The bile rose again and Tyler lurched forward, a few dry heaves racking his body; there was nothing left to come out anyway. Shaking hands yanked a towel from where it hung on the wall and he sat back, leaning against a wall of the shower. He produced a small baggie from his jean pocket and dried it and his hands before dumping a bit on the contents onto the back of his hand and snuffing it.

This was a dream. This was all just a bad dream. He was going to take this bump and calm down and when he opened his eyes everything would be back to the way it was. He would be sitting on the bed drinking wine and watching TV while Randy made business calls. They would make an appearance at a party as scheduled around 1:00 am. They would return to the hotel penthouse as the sun came up and Randy would fuck him through the mattress before they passed out until the late afternoon. His own cell phone would never ring. The argument would never have ensued. Everything would be fine.

He let his head rest back against the cold tile of the shower, a warmth starting from the pit of his stomach and blooming to fill the rest of the body. Bloodshot, blue eyes fell shut as he let out a long breath. Just as he was letting himself get lost in the high a sound jolted him back to reality; the door to the hotel room opened slowly before sliding shut, the automatic lock once again slipping into place.

Tyler’s eyes snapped open and he froze in his place, fingers twisting tightly in the fabric of his soaked shirt. He could feel the sense of fight or flight wash over him, the feeling elevated by the drugs in his system, as he heard the footsteps around the penthouse, the sound of broken glass being further crushed under someone’s shoe. There was a moment where he debated grabbing something to use a weapon, eyes darting around the bathroom for an object that would fit the bill, but he couldn’t make his body move. He was rooted to the floor of the shower as he heard the steps approach the door, heart hammering in his chest, blood pulsing past his ears louder and louder until it was nearly all he could hear.

He watched in sheer terror as the doorknob twisted and suddenly he was staring wide eyed at an older gentleman shrouded in all black, a dastardly smirk forming on his thin lips.

“ _Well hello there, Flower._ ”

~

William Regal was, above all else, a professional.

Leather gloves. All-black suit. No mask, of course - that would simply draw attention to him. No, he never did a single thing halfway, especially not blending in to his surroundings. The most important thing he did while on the job was call no undue attention to himself.

He made sure to rent the room not next to the mark, but just one over. Prepaid with cash so checking out wouldn’t be an issue. Took no photo of the mark with him in his briefcase. Grinned as he noticed not a single security camera in the hallways. Life was never much like the movies, was it? Thus, Randy Orton’s long-due but early demise would go rather unnoticed until morning.

Not that he would really be missed by many.

His employer had given him the full rundown of all of his crimes against the Family. Lied. Cheated. Stole. Stole some more. He really seemed to love the stealing part. Swore that they would never do business with scum like him ever again. Well. They could still sell to scum like him, at least. Scum was their main demographic. But they wouldn’t be trusted with distributing, for certain.

And thus William knew quite a bit about the man he was sent to take care of, despite never having met him. It was neater that way, easier, cleaner. He’d been offered a place many times, to be taken care of for the rest of his life. But for the price of doing anything they said…?

No. Couldn’t get too close to his employer. It simply wasn’t professional.

It was meant to be easy. It was Randy. He was a snake, for sure, but snakes aren’t particularly known for being clever. They are quiet, they hunt for what they want and they take it.

They don’t _think_. They simply _sneak_.

And appropriately, the room was silent when William approached the door. He listened against it, finding no sign of activity but for the mumble of the television. The lock was key-card activated as expected. Really, it was becoming so much easier to break into rooms without any evidence nowadays. No tumblers. No pins. No time to waste fiddling, making noise that the mark might hear. Just a single mechanism between him and another payday.

The moment he pushed the door open and eased it closed behind him, he realized this wouldn’t be nearly as simple as expected.

Good. He preferred it that way. Far more interesting.

The room was an absolute mess, in contrast to how it appeared from the hallway. Whatever glass objects had been in the room was shattered or cracked, jagged pieces all over the carpet. The bed was not just unmade, but covered in stains of various color, and the coffee table was a mess of razor-thin scratches and leftover white powder.

Of course the human body lying in a pool of blood next to the bed didn’t help.

He shook his head, sympathetically patted the diver’s knife holstered under his jacket. Its thirst would go unquenched that night. Ah well. Less dirty work for the same pay? As much as he liked things more interesting than easy, he couldn’t argue with one more suit he wouldn’t have to burn.

William pressed the power button on the television before checking on the corpse. It wasn’t as if Randy would be watching it, anyway. He strode over, careful to avoid stepping in any of the bloodied carpet, to find that it, indeed, was Randy lying prone with his eyes bulging open and glassy, a jagged wound having rended his neck rather mercilessly.

He slipped off his leather glove and retrieved one made of latex from his pocket. He didn’t bother to slip it on, merely placing it between his fingers and Randy’s wrist to check for a pulse. It seemed obvious, perhaps even unnecessary, but he would be so annoyed with himself if he wasn’t absolutely thorough.

It was then he heard something stir. A breath, a sniffle, the quiet thump of a limb slipping against porcelain.

His knife tasted air, poised behind his back and clenched in his bare fist. The gloved hand reached for the bathroom door as he gently stepped across the carpet, letting it creak open as he peered inside.

Goodness, that certainly explained the body in the other room.

Sitting wide-eyed and shivering in the bathtub, clothes soaked and splattered with pink, was a rather handsome young man having what was likely the worst day of his life. Eyes red as the front of his shirt, blood vessels burst at the top of his sculpted cheekbones, lip quivering with fear and cold. In spite of all that he was rather… dare he think it? Of course.

Gorgeous.

“Well hello there, Flower,” William greeted after reholstering his knife, crouching next to the tub so as to be eye level with the poor creature. He gasped and drew back suddenly as William approached, understandably terrified. “Relax, would you?” he chuckled. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean to!” the young man squeaked timorously. “H-He tripped, he was the one who broke it in the first place, he was coming at me like he was going to kill me--!”

William shushed him, nodding as the young man’s mouth drew closed.

Of course he opened it right back up, but more quietly this time. “I can’t go to prison, I just can’t, please don’t arrest me--”

The older one laughed, not loudly but rather outside of his control. “Why would I do a thing like that? I’m not an officer of the law, darling, I just dress well.” He stood and patted him on the head, watching him flinch at the touch. “In fact, I should be thanking you. You deserve some of my cut, I should think…”

“W-what... ?” Tyler’s face twisted in confusion as he sat up a little straighter. “C-cut of what?” He was trembling again from a combination of the adrenaline running through his system and the cold that was settling into his bone. “I..then-then, what are you? Who are you?”

“I’m a professional,” he said simply. William pulled a folded plastic garbage bag from his trouser pocket and opened it, laying it against the side of the tub. “Please remove your clothes and put them in the bag. Can’t have them lying about here to be discovered, can we?” He nodded and left the bathroom, pulling out another bag of his own and looking about, starting with the broken bottle lying next to Randy’s head.

Tyler looked from the bag to the strange man and then back to the bag as the other left him to his devices in the bathroom. After a few moments of hesitation the blonde got his feet and began to disrobe. He made sure to take his stash from his jean pocket before shoving his clothing into the garbage bag. Tyler pouted a bit over the loss of such a lovely outfit, but he knew the blood stains would never come out anyway.

He pulled a fluffy, white robe from where it hung on the back of the door and wrapped himself in its warmth. After tying off the bag he emerged from the bathroom, lovely blue eyes accosted by the scene of the crime. He let out a small whimper and looked away, stomach lurching all over again. He was quick to grab a change of clothing from his suitcase before making his way back to the safety of the bathroom to redress.

As he finally took an opportunity to examine himself in the mirror he frowned and leaned closer to the glass; he was an absolute wreck. It only lasted a few moments before he had to look away. Lithe fingers flexed around the tiny baggie before he shoved into the pocket of his new, clean jeans and remerged. He kept his gaze anywhere but the mess the other man was cleaning up.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked rather bluntly as he stared out the window and onto the lights of the city that surrounded them.

He can hear the other man’s movements pause, “Now why would I do that? You’ve gone and made my job so much easier.”

“But I’ve seen your face. Aren’t you worried I’ll try and pin this on you?” His fingers slid over the outside of his pocket - to remind him of what was there in order to remain calm and collected. He could see the reflection of the other man in the window as he approached.

“Have you ever been to prison, Flower?” the older man asked, head tilted to the side as he makes eye contact with Tyler in the glass. He was standing so close Tyler could feel the heat radiating off of his body. The urge to step away increased with every moment that passed but all he could think of was that knife. He opted out of making any sudden movements.

He gave a small shake of his head and the other man narrowed his eyes, a solemn frown at the corners of his lips.

“I’d imagined not. Do you know what happens to pretty boys like you in prison?” Tyler shook his head again and nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of large hands fell on his shoulders along with a hot breath on his ear. “They do not do well,” the other whispered before pulling away, a small sigh falling from his lips as he observed the look of horror he’d managed to put on the small blonde’s face. Now he seemed to understand the gravity of it all.

“You see, my dear boy, I am helping you right now. I am cleaning up your mess; the murder weapon laden with your fingerprints, your blood soaked clothing, the bloody prints on the bathroom door, all of it wiped away by me. However, if you’d like to play games I can leave it all and you can clean it up yourself…” He picked up the garbage bag, prepared to dump it all out on the floor again when Tyler whipped around and lurched toward him.

“No! Please! It was an accident! I-I-..N-no!” The panicked desperation on his face was almost pathetic. “I won’t say anything! I swear it! I-I d-don’t even know your name.”

William nodded at him, somewhat smug in the face of such predictability. “And as far as I’m concerned, you are merely ‘Flower’, of whom I know nothing, and wish to know nothing.” His eyes returned to darting about the room and fiddling with various objects, garbage bag crinkling in his hand.

The routineness with which he went about his redressing of the crime scene only emphasized just how much Tyler’s life had changed in a matter of minutes. He found himself talking again, quiet, whimpering.

“What am I gonna do? How could this happen? I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“What’s done is done, save your fretting for later,” the older one intoned as he glanced up to the TV stand. “Oh, is that cognac?” The unopened bottle, golden and looking as expensive as it was, went into his jacket pocket. “No sense wasting good drink…”

Tyler didn’t even have the presence of mind to whine about the older one taking his stuff. He really was beside himself.

All of a sudden the man in black was headed for the door, both garbage bags in hand. Tyler barely had the time to step over the bloodstained carpet in his effort to keep up.

“W-Wait!!” he gasped, glancing back over his shoulder at his day bag in the corner. “My stuff, I can’t leave--”

“Do you have your wallet and your phone?”

“I-I mean, they’re… right there on the table, but--”

“Leave everything else.” William scooped the items up with one hand and shoved them at the other one, who could only scramble to stuff them into his pockets. “No sense weighing yourself down. These are all you need.”

“B-But where am I gonna go? What’s gonna happen to me?” he continued protesting, heart pounding in his throat and tears starting afresh in his eyes.

“Where’s home for you?”

Jesus, now he wanted to know where he lived? Not that he really had a choice in the matter. Clearly this man knew far more than he did.

“Just. An hour from here, couple towns over, b-but why?”

“I’ll take you home, then,” William rumbled, shuffling towards the door. He indicated for the younger one to be quiet, then, as he listened against the door. In a few moments he slowly turned the knob and peeked outside, walking through the threshold and motioning that he wanted to be followed.

The two remained entirely silent as they snuck across the hallway, Tyler knowing enough to at least try and be quiet about it. The older man inserted a key card into the door just one over, allowing Tyler to walk in first before shutting and deadbolting the door behind them.

“Th… Thank you,” Tyler whispered, sinking against the wall and collapsing in a heap on the floor. He still had no idea who this was, if he could trust him, or what was going to happen to him. But if this man wanted him dead… he would be lying next to Randy at that very moment, wouldn’t he? He shivered and went on, “For, for helping me and taking me home, it’s… I mean, it’s nice of you--”

“No, no,” William corrected, pulling off his gloves and shoving them in his trouser pocket. “Not nice, dear. Practical. Tying up loose ends. Can’t have a panicked little chit running about near the scene, is all. Calls too much attention.”

Tyler swallowed hard and hugged his knees. He was at a loss for words, finally. Not that it mattered for very long.

“Don’t get comfortable, Flower. We’re leaving in just a few minutes.”

The younger one nodded, still burying his head in his arms for however long he had to relax. He couldn’t really argue with that.

  
He didn’t have a choice.


	2. Chapter 2

“A professional _what?_ ” 

So the little blighter could still speak. William hadn’t been sure about that until he piped up with that all of a sudden about ten minutes into their drive. And it confused him for a moment, until he remembered their conversation not an hour ago. He chuckled to himself, imagining some of his friends insisting he was already going senile at forty-six years old, and glanced at his charge.

The young man was huddled in the passenger seat, hair still damp, hugging himself and shivering a bit, pouting out the car window. Despite having decided to engage him in conversation, he didn’t seem one for eye contact. At least, not at this moment.

William couldn’t exactly blame him.

“I think you know precisely what sort of professional I am,” he intoned as he turned back to watch the road. “But you want to hear me say it, don’t you? Interesting.”

His passenger huffed. “I just want you to say one thing without being so fucking cryptic,” he growled through his teeth. At this point his pick-me-up from earlier was making him more antsy and paranoid than anything else. But he had to keep it somewhat together if he was to survive this, which he was accomplishing by the skin of his teeth. In his mind, at least.

William quirked an eyebrow, but couldn’t help but crack a grin. They’d just met and this boy already had his number. Even more interesting. 

“How about this?” He caressed the steering wheel absently as he made his offer. “You tell me what you do, and I’ll tell you what I do. That seems fair, now, doesn’t it?”

“Shouldn’t you already _know_ things about me? You _did_ come into _my_ hotel suite looking to-to--” he faltered, unable to say the word out loud. He had to hold back a small whimper that wanted to escape his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head against the car window. “You came for us. I’m not stupid. I know what happens when someone is sent after someone else. You have to do research before you strike.”

William hummed softly, a small smile on his thin lips as he kept his eyes on the road. This one had quite the vivid imagination, didn’t he? Right down to the vocabulary. “Right you are, Flower. Research is the key to success in this business. But I wasn’t after you, my dear. I was after your paramour. Mr. Orton angered a lot of people in high places.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Tyler hugged himself tighter, an impassive mask settling over his sharp features. “I didn’t ask questions.”

William let out a deep laugh at that, the sound startling Tyler, his head whipping to stare wide-eyed at the older man. “What’s so funny?!” his expression fell to annoyance, eyebrows stitching together and a glare in his eyes.

“I have been in your presence for all of an hour or so and even I’m calling your bluff. You are entirely too curious and inquisitive to not ask questions.” 

“I didn’t ask questions,” Tyler maintained. “Questions cause trouble.” The last words were almost robotic in nature and brought a quizzical look to William’s face but before he could press on further Tyler spoke up again. “I can’t go home.” It finally dawned on him and the panic came back to his voice and features as it had been earlier. “I mean how long do I have until they find the body? Once they find it people will be _looking_ for me. They’ll-they’ll demand answers. And-and if _they_ know what I did? Oh god.. oh no. But I-I don’t have anything with me! I _need_ to go get things. Clothes, belongings. I-I _need_ to go back but I _can’t_ stay! Where am I supposed to go?!”

William held up a hand for the young man to stop talking. It was not only giving him a twinge in the back of his head, but it was very difficult to think of a solution while someone was babbling. Not that he had any obligation to figure out this stranger’s problems, but at least it gave him something to do while he was driving.

“It’s lucky for you that Mr. Orton had such a convoluted web of relationships that you - as you said - know nothing about,” he began. “Because in that case, how were you to know what would happen if you popped back home early because you forgot something important, leaving Randy alone to be picked off by someone he’d crossed some time ago?

“And _certainly_ you were going to go back and join him for the rest of the week you had the room booked for, which is why your luggage remained there. But suddenly you had some urgent personal matter pop up that you could not ignore.”

“But the body--” Tyler cut in again. He had already caught on to what this man was doing - explaining his new story in the event he was questioned about it. But as he was wont to do, he only had more questions about how he was going to escape all of this.

William interrupted him right back. “--is behind a door, as well as that little hanging sign that says ‘do not disturb’.” He smiled with something like pride or deviousness pulling at the corner of his lips. “So I would say you have about four or five days before they go to clear the room, given that he should have checked out by then.”

The younger one glowered at him but slumped back into his seat as he gave it some thought. Like he was trying to find any holes in the story that someone might poke their head through. 

Tyler shook his head and piped up suddenly, “It was supposed to be a surprise, anyway… For his birthday, I mean.” He swallowed down another bucket of tears and cleared his throat. “So. Yeah, I probably forgot something…”

The other one nodded. “Even better. So at the very least you have a few days to decide where you’d like to disappear to.” William checked each of his mirrors and turned back to his left before merging into the passing lane. “And thus, just enough time to narrow down just which designer pieces you wouldn’t be able to live without.”

Tyler huffed. He wasn’t _wrong_ about that. It was something that had crossed his mind in between getting into the car and that moment. But he hated that this complete stranger could easily guess that about him.

And now he was getting sweaty, yet chilled to his bone. His last hit was wearing off already. And he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to scrounge up from his own stash at home. Dammit. And Randy never told him where he stored his own supply, for good reason. Tyler had very little impulse control when it came to his drug of choice.

Not that he was about to revive himself in front of this weird old man who already knew his darkest secret. But he planned for a quick bathroom break the moment they stepped into his house.

“Are we in agreement?”

Tyler jumped at the question but heaved a sigh and shrugged. “I don’t know if those few days are going to even matter. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t even need to think about it at all to know that.”

It wasn’t his problem. It _wasn’t_ his problem. It was, in fact, the polar opposite of his problem.

But William had one hell of a bleeding heart for nervous little addicts like this one clearly was.

“I could drop you off somewhere on my way home, I suppose,” he exhaled before he could stop himself. “A motel or something, far from your hometown. I’d have to stop for rest, anyway, so I suppose it wouldn’t be too much trouble to drag you along with me.”

“It’s still suspicious that I’m missing. They’ll come looking. The police _and_ Randy’s friends. They’ll come to the apartment. Everything will be in perfect order. It’s _suspicious_.” He quieted for a few moments and thought. This had to be perfect for anything to pan out. “Unless you take me with you.”

“Excuse me?” William quirked an eyebrow and tsked softly. “No, no. That won’t do.”

“Just listen!” Tyler turned in his seat to face the older man a bit more. “You need to take me with you. You have to. It’s the only way I get out of this without suspicion tossed on me--”

“And how is that?”

“Let me _finish_ ,” he huffed and glared at the other for interrupting him again. “I’m a loose end. Randy’s enemies _must_ know who I am. They would want to get rid of me. So we stage it.”

At this point William was just a little bit intrigued. Maybe this twitchy addict wasn’t dead weight after all. At least, he was _attempting_ to come up with a cover.

“We are going to ransack my apartment,” Tyler continued, running the scenario through his own head. “Make it look like a break-in. Hell, if it helps you can take more of the expensive liquor. I don’t care. But I’m getting out of this.”

“But why wouldn’t they just kill you?” William asked, “What would you be worth to them alive?”

“A lot more than _you’re_ worth. I can guarantee that. I have name recognition. My face is in magazines. I have my own _following_. I am on the _cusp_ of stardom! I am worth a decent ransom! I’m also gorgeous. Maybe your boss just wants pretty arm candy! There’s so many ways this could go.” There was a huge smile on Tyler’s face now as he spoke. “And _this_ will make me even bigger. Every designer label will want to work with me after my daring escape from death!” He was almost too giddy over all of this.

“And you expect me to be your captor?” William affirmed. “Absolutely not.”

Tyler pouted. “You _have_ to! You don’t even have to do anything but let me crash with you for... for like two, maybe three weeks, tops. And then I can ‘escape.’ I’ll dirty myself up a bit, find an outfit to ruin and tell the story. I didn’t recognize my captors, they always wore masks around me. The place I was kept had no distinguishable characteristics. I was a bit delirious when I escaped, hungry, dehydrated, what have you, so I’m not exactly certain I could pin point where I was. Though if you’re feeling creative I’m sure we could find some rat hole where we could stage where I was held.. or is that too much?”

“There is no _we_ here, Flower. _We_ are not working together.”

“What? We have to! You-you said I deserved a cut of whatever you were making for this hit! Consider this my cut! All I’m asking for is a few weeks. And then I can go back to my life and we never have to see each other again. Well, except you’ll have to see me in magazines, on television and probably every enormous billboard in the city. My face will be plastered _everywhere_ after this.” Tyler all but squealed quietly at the last bit. For a moment he was able to forget what exactly had gotten him in this position in the first place, and actually remember why he’d even moved to a big city at all. That is, before Randy had gotten involved and ruined everything.

A mistake. This was all going to be one big mistake. Unprofessional, absolutely unprofessional. He should have left him sobbing alone in that hotel room and just eaten the cost of having no job to do. William imagined the sort of mocking he’d have to endure, dragging this one around when he wasn’t on jobs because for fuck’s sake he wouldn’t be able to leave him alone for too long. It could only make things worse. And the amount of _attention_ he wanted to bring on himself afterwards… 

Christ. 

At the very least, a week would give William time to convince him to come up with a different plan. He was fighting himself at every moment not to pull over and leave the idiot on the turnpike. But he’d already dug himself into this hole, and it was going to take far more to dig himself out, now that this stupid little chit knew his face.

“Fine,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I suppose that’ll have to do for now.”

“Ha!” The younger one snickered and gave a small, victorious fist pump in spite of the gravity of his situation. Must’ve been some good stuff he was on. “I knew it, I’m a genius. I could be my own manager with these sorts of ideas.”

“But you’ll have to follow my every direction if this is going to work, all right?” William sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck. He had one hell of a tension headache coming on. Feeling the other might be pouting at him again, he added, “Well we have to make it _convincing_ , don’t we?”

“Ohhh, yes, yes, of course.”

At least that seemed to satisfy him for the moment. Though when William glanced over, his leg was bouncing and his jaw tight, as if barely restraining himself from grinding his perfect teeth together.

It only compounded how little he wanted to do with him. Addicts were messy, difficult to control, and entirely unreasonable.

He would know.

William flipped on the radio to whatever classics station he could find, nodding as a Sinatra tune lilted to him. His shoulders relaxed a little at this, and he hummed along until he felt the knot in his head start to unravel.

And like this they remained until they reached their destination.


	3. Chapter 3

“THOSE FUCKING DICKS!”

It turned out the ransacking wouldn’t be necessary. It had already been done for them.

No skin off of Mr. Regal’s nose, of course. This was hardly anything emotionally devastating for him, given that it wasn’t his house, nor his belongings in question. But he did heave a sigh at what all of this was probably going to mean for him.

Another bloody headache.

“Well,” William quipped, picking up a couch cushion from the carpet and setting it in its place to sit himself down. “These things just keep taking care of themselves, don’t they?”

Tyler simply stood in the middle of the living room, ignoring the older man as he spoke. He was entirely too busy taking in the disastrous state of his home. There wasn’t a single thing left unturned or unemptied. He took slow, careful steps, surveying the damage as he moved. These were his things, _all_ of his things, and most of them were destroyed. Picture frames knocked to the floor, side tables overturned, basically anything that wasn’t nailed down having been pushed over or shattered.

Typical. Randy must have crossed some other jerks who were happy to continue ruining the everliving fuck out of his life while they were on vacation.

He made it as far as the master bedroom closet before collapsing in a heap among the mess of clothing, accessories, and shoes. Tyler was so overwhelmed; he had no idea what to do and his brain was a muddled mess. As far as he could tell life as he knew it was effectively over; nothing was ever going to be the same now and the knowledge of that slammed into his chest, his heart aching as he picked up a torn shirt and clutched the material to his chest.

What was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go? 

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks but he was too lost in his own thoughts to care. He managed to find a suitcase and a duffle bag among the mess in the the closet and started to carefully pick through items; anything that he was to take with him would have to fit in these two bags. 

Even without knowing what was to come next, he knew he had to prepare, and he did so with nothing but the sound of his soft sniffles. 

Luckily, not every single nice piece of clothing he owned was stained or ripped in half. Though an extremely distressing amount of them were. At least this made it a little easier to decide what he was going to bring… His suits were sitting in the closet, hung up just so because they were an absolute bitch to press correctly. He thought about bringing at least several, but they would have to go in the suitcase or the duffel bag…

_No_ , he thought. _I’m not a fucking animal. I can’t just stuff them there like that…_ He sighed and thought about the older man sitting in his destroyed living room, probably laughing at his tragedy, for how much he seemed to care about Tyler.

_Fuck him!_ Tyler threw a shoe stained by spilled cologne at the wall, rage and frustration twisting up his stomach. _He can’t tell me what I can and can’t bring… Besides, he’s wearing a suit, himself. He must know how important it is to have something nice to wear._

It wasn’t ideal, certainly, trying to fit three suits into a single garment bag. They might wrinkle a bit. It seemed kind of sacrilegious to sandwich a Pignatelli in between a Tom Ford and an Armani. And he doubted the old fucker would let him hang it up on the hook in the car. But it was the best he could do at that point. Just the essentials...

He zipped up the garment bag and closed his other luggage and set them on the bed. With that taken care of, he’d have to see if they managed to find that one last stash, the one Randy never even touched unless he knew there was no one else in the house but the two of them. Well, he barely touched it at all, in fact. It was only used for emergencies, so Tyler had ended up using it for his keepsakes in the meantime.

Tyler closed the oak chest at the foot of the bed, which had already been rifled through and emptied. With a grunt, he pushed it away from its original position. The small bit of carpet he’d so carefully cut away with a razor that one day came up immediately, revealing the small trapdoor they’d installed underneath. He pulled it open and found much of what he was looking for rather quickly.

A few letters from childhood friends he’d long lost contact with. The photo frame, which held the only photo of him with his parents that he bothered to have printed. The rest had been lost about three or four laptops ago. And finally, the pocket watch his grandfather had given to him on the day of his eighteenth birthday; it was old, a family heirloom, but had never seen a single spot of tarnish. 

Tyler took the shining, gold circle in his hand and remembered the trip to New York City from Canada that had happened only days after he’d turned eighteen. He had clutched that pocket watch the entire flight like it was the only thing keeping the plane from falling out of the sky. 

Even now, the words his grandfather had said to him when he placed it in his hands played over and over in his mind; _“You’re a man now, Tyler. And you’re going to do great things no matter where you go in the world. And I couldn’t be prouder of you. But no matter how many places you visit, never forget where you came from. Never forget all the things you learned here.”_

Tyler set the watch back into its box and exhaled slowly in attempt to keep his emotions in line. Tyler had tried to forget his roots the moment he stepped foot in New York. And if his grandfather could see him now? Well... Tyler imagined he wouldn’t be too proud of him anymore. 

He pushed those thoughts down and placed the box containing the watch and the letters into a compartment in his suitcase. _Goddamn_ he needed another fucking hit and _now._

With a sigh he picked the photo frame up once more and turned it over to open up the backing. The money he stashed behind the photo wasn’t a _lot_. He wasn’t even sure if it would be enough. But it was better than nothing.

That was it. Except...

Tyler moved back to the compartment in the floor and pulled up the silk cloth that the keepsakes were nestled on a moment ago, remembering that he’d left his secret supply in there the other week while Randy was out one day. Again, it wouldn’t be much, but at least it would get him through the next few weeks--

Or it would have, had it been there.

Tyler’s fingers scrambled over the empty surface, as if it could have been hiding under an invisible wall. He swore, his stomach starting to do less twisting and more lurching. 

_Fucking_ Randy. _That greedy fucking asshole._ His heart skipped a beat as the words raced through his head. It felt wrong to think it, as if Randy would hear him and get that look in his eyes, the one he got when he broke the bottle, the one he got _so many_ times even before tonight.

Tyler shook the images out of his head. No use dwelling on that now, he was supposed to be hurrying. And he didn’t want to think about it at all, if he could help it. Easier that way. 

He fumbled into his back pocket and pulled out his last little baggie. There was barely enough left for a single bump, closer to the amount he’d keep in the bag just to rub on the inside of his lip in between doses. 

_Fuck it. FUCK IT._ Tyler wasn’t some pathetic addict sleeping in an alley. He was a model, he was an adult, and above all else he was a man with self control and he could go a day or two without it. The old fuck in the other room killed people for a living, he probably had a hookup. He’d be fine. If he could survive this long in this horrible situation, the rest of it would be easy.

“Do let me know when you’re ready to leave,” he heard the other man call from the living room. “And I recommend it being soon. Don’t want to run into anyone you know, do we?”

_We certainly fucking don’t,_ he thought. Tyler gulped down his apprehension about… well, everything, and responded aloud, “Almost ready. Just… just a minute.”

He stuffed the baggie into his back pocket again, along with his temptation to take it right then and there. He’d have to ration it until he knew he could get more. Or if he got too annoyed with the old man. Or if he just felt like it.

Yeah. Fine. Tyler Breeze was going to be _fine._

~

His hands were shaking.

~

The drive from his home to the middle of fucking nowhere, which was where they were apparently headed, had been mostly silent aside from the classical music that the old man had insisted on playing quietly and, much to Tyler’s disdain, occasionally humming along to. He had watched the lights of the city fade out the passenger window and before long he was faced with terrain that looked completely unfamiliar. He had never really been outside the city before right then.

“I kind of feel like you’re driving me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me…” Tyler finally offered to fill the silence of the car.

William let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. “Why on _earth_ would I waste my time doing that, Flower? We’ve been over this already; if I wanted to kill you I would have done it already.”

Tyler’s arms folded across his chest and he huffed. “I didn’t say you were _going_ to. I just said it _felt_ that way--” Tyler paused mid-sentence and turned his perplexed gaze to the man in the driver’s seat. “I don’t think I caught your name earlier.”

“I never tossed it to you,” William said nonchalantly, a light smirk playing at his lips.

“Well.. what is it then?” Tyler prodded.

The older one shook his head, his grin not fading even for a moment. “I don’t know if I want you to know it. I really don’t think you need to.”

Tyler huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well I need to call you something. It would be suspicious if I was traveling with you and didn’t even know your name and someone asked--”

“I’ve always been partial to ‘Sir’. You could call me that if you like.” He was chuckling, then, not even needing to glance at the other one to know just what kind of look he was giving him. But really, the poor boy had suffered enough that night. And he was bound to find out at some point, if they were going to have this much contact over the next few weeks.

“It’s William Regal,” he admitted with a shrug. 

“Oh, of fucking course it is.” Tyler threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. He was dealing with a distinguished, older English gentleman. He didn’t know what he expected. Furthermore, his nerves were frayed by the whole experience, and it was becoming difficult to contain his exasperation, much less sit still. He picked at a stray cuticle and went on, “Whatever. Mine’s Tyler. Last name, Breeze.”

William snorted at his answer. “I highly doubt that.”

“You’re one to fucking talk!” God, the nerve of this prick. Tyler’s jaw was tight and twitching, which he chalked up to having this asshole to deal with for the next several weeks.

“Yes, well, that’s a fair cop…” he mumbled as he pulled into the parking lot of a dimly-lit motel nestled at the edge of a forest. “We’ll settle on Mr. Regal and Mr. Breeze, then. Just to keep it all on the professional side of things. That will work best, I should think.”

“Whatever,” Tyler repeated, sniffling.

~

Christ it was so fucking _cold._

~

The sky was paling by the time they had checked in and found their room. It was small. It had _one_ bed and a couch and a TV that was actually fucking shaped like a _box_. The walls were beige and the carpets dark blue, likely to mask dirt, of which there was probably tons. There was some crappy painting of a lake on the wall, like that made it look any classier.

And yet, for whatever reason, William seemed perfectly happy to put his suitcase down and hang up his coat in the closet, which lacked a door that it was clearly meant to have.

_This man is fucking insane,_ Tyler concluded to himself. _How else could he be okay with this? This is deplorable._ And yet he couldn’t really argue. This fucking insane person was carting him around for a few weeks out of the supposed goodness of his heart. He really wasn’t used to accepting such conditions. But he planned on showering twice after sleeping on… whatever it is he was going to sleep on. He couldn’t imagine sharing the bed with that old bastard.

“Well,” William sighed suddenly as he rolled his shoulders. “There’s quite the charming little diner across the parking lot. Personally, I’m rather peckish, so I’m going to pop over before I get any sleep. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

Tyler shook his head and cringed as he sat down on the bed. “Not hungry, but thanks.”

William stopped on his way to the door to look at him sideways. “You haven’t eaten since this whole thing started. Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. Now he was trying to be nice to him? What a fucking unpredictable weirdo.

“I’m sure,” he sighed, massaging a sudden ache in the back of his neck. “Go on. I’ll be here when you get back, I _guess._ ”

William shook his head and opened the door. “Nowhere else to go, is there, Flower? I’ll be back in a bit.” The door closed behind him, leaving Tyler with nothing but the TV and his thoughts to keep him company.

~

Who the hell could eat with stomach cramps like this, anyway?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fate of this story was unsure for a bit, my co author and I have both been pretty busy. However most of this chapter had already been written so I was able to finish it pretty quickly once we set our minds on it. Rest assured, we're still working on it. Enjoy!

_Blood. There was blood **everywhere**. He couldn’t escape it no matter where he turned. He felt like he was being chased, could hear the heavy steps, but he was too afraid to turn around and see who it was. He couldn't breathe; every breath he tried to take made his lungs scream in protest. But he couldn't stop running. He had to get away. _

_He could see the doorway, he was almost there. Just a few more-- BANG! Before he could reach the door he tripped and slammed into the ground. The world spun around him for a few moments and he couldn't make sense of it all. When he managed to push himself up his hands pressed against something soft and warm. Randy. It was Randy._

_Blood spurted from the wound on his neck; there was no way to stop it. Piercing blue eyes snapped open, the shock of it causing Tyler to fall back and try to scramble away as Randy say up._

_“You did this!” He hissed, moving toward Tyler. “You did this to me! You killed me!”_

_“No no no! It was an accident!” Tyler pleaded, hands held up as if they could ward the man off. “I'm sorry! It was an accident!”_

_Randy lunged at him, effectively pinning Tyler to the ground. Large hands wrapped around Tyler’s neck, a murderous glare clouding Randy’s eyes as he snarled down at Tyler._

_“You weak, pathetic, shit,” he squeezed tighter and Tyler gasped. “You’re nothing without me! You won’t **survive** without me!” _

_Tyler squirmed and fought but it was hopeless, it was all completely useless. He was trapped and Randy was slowly squeezing the life out of him. The edges of his vision were going black. This was it. He was about to die._

Tyler was gasping as he sat straight up in bed, hands coming to his own neck to make sure there was nothing obstructing his ability to breathe. He was sweating, his long hair sticking to his face and neck, his clothes clinging to his skin. A hand rested on his shoulder and Tyler whipped around to see its origins, his fist raised to strike. 

“It’s just me, Flower!” William jerked his hand back and took a few steps back from the bed. He was dressed in just his button-down shirt and slacks, which were both wrinkled. The disheveled couch cushions behind him indicated he’d slept like this. “You were dreaming. It was all just a bad dream.”

Tyler’s heart was still hammering in his chest, eyes wide and mouth dry. Every time he tried to swallow he felt like his throat was covered in sandpaper. Everything fucking hurt. He needed a bump; he needed something, _anything_ , to make it all just stop! 

“ _I’m dying,_ ” he croaked, the words a struggle to even get out. And it was even more of a struggle not to let out the meager contents of his stomach out along with them. The saliva gathering in his mouth was proof he’d probably soon fail even at that. 

William stared at him, eyes cast with something Tyler had never seen in them. Sadness? Sympathy? Worry, definitely. Concern, maybe. This was new for the younger one.

For the older one, it was all too familiar.

“You’re not dying,” William assured him, approaching slowly with his hands raised in front of him, as if he was expecting to defend himself. “I actually have a very good idea of what’s happening to you right now.”

The window was closed and shuttered, but only darkness peeked through the space between the blinds. Tyler whipped his head around to look at the alarm clock on the side table, finding that it displayed 10:57.

He had no idea which one.

“Fuck,” he gasped, swallowing a huge gulp of saliva and yet cringing at how dry his throat was. “What the fuck… is… what time is it? What happened? It was morning--”

“You’ve been sleeping all day. It’s already the next evening.” Before Tyler could begin to ask why he didn’t wake him, William went on, “We were both exhausted, I thought we could both use an extra night of downtime. I reserved another night, and…” He noticed Tyler shivering even as he was sweating bullets, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “And it’s been nearly a full day since you’ve had a hit, isn’t it?”

“S-Something like that, I don’t know.” Tyler snatched the offered cloth and wiped his face, his skin clammy even after repeated swipes. It was soaked in his hands by the time he was done with the back of his neck. “The fuck do you know, anyway?” he snapped, suddenly incensed that this fucking stranger was telling him anything about his own life. “You haven’t seen me take a fucking thing, how would you know _shit_ about this?”

William hardened his expression and found his head cocking to the side. “Your nostrils have been red and chapped for the entire time I’ve seen you, in spite of absolutely no other sign of you having any virus, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen anyone who didn’t have a one hundred and five degree fever sweat while shivering so intensely, you clearly work out and yet your skin is clinging to your muscles like there’s nothing between them, notwithstanding you were dating a distributer who had stolen several pounds of cocaine from my employer’s supply. Which he probably laced with some amount of heroin, considering how quickly your symptoms are progressing.”

_Heroin?_

Somehow that’s what was bothering him the most all of a sudden.

“I…” The words stuck to his throat as he shoved a trembling hand through his damp hair. “I don’t… I don’t _do_ heroin… Just. Just the coke, I promise, it was… He gave it to me, he told me that’s all it was.” 

Whatever it was he’d been taking, he really fucking needed some more of it or his skin felt like it was going to tear off of its own power.

“You--” Fuck, was he desperate. He hadn’t felt withdrawals like this ever before. He felt his fucking brain itching the inside of his skull. “You don’t… you don’t have anything, do you?”

William glared at him, his mouth a thin, tight line. “I don’t. Even if I did happen to, you wouldn’t get even a taste of it.”

“Need to… need to get some more,” he mumbled to himself. His hand automatically fumbled to his back pocket and pulled out the baggie he’d saved. It was all he had left, but he felt so profoundly uncomfortable that he couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

It was only when he had the bag in his hands that he realized that it was nearly empty, the side of the plastic having ripped inside his jeans pocket in his fitful sleep. What remained could barely even make the tip of his tongue numb.

Apparently his stomach couldn’t handle that kind of shock along with everything else crashing down on him.

Tyler rolled off of the bed and stumbled over to the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door before losing what little was left in his stomach into the toilet. That certainly didn’t help the burning in his throat and eyes. Or even the nausea. In fact, with nothing left in there, he only felt dizzier and sicker. Tyler spit and stared at the string of drool hanging down from his lip. It was then his vision went blurry and he could only make out blobs of color in front of his eyes.

“I wanna die.”

He collapsed back against the wall, hugging his knees, his cheeks flooded with tears as he sobbed openly. His cries echoed against the tile and banged into his ears as he slammed a fist into his thigh over and over. 

“I wish he’d killed _me_ , instead.”

Tyler fell over in the fetal position against the cold tile and covered his head and ears with his arms. There was no escape from how much every inch of his body hurt, no numbing what he’d done and what Randy had done to him. And he was miles from home and away from everything and anyone he knew.

“Help.”

Was this what dying felt like? Was this what Randy felt when he was bleeding out on the hotel carpet, his life draining away from him and slowly taking each of his senses one by one?

Did he deserve to feel this miserable?

Tyler was sitting upright against the wall suddenly, propped up by a large pair of strong hands. He almost wanted to ask if it was Randy in front of him, picking him up when he was too weak to do so, entirely dependent on his strength - but Tyler soon heard through the pounding blood in his ears the voice of his sole temporary companion.

“You're going to have to calm down, dear boy,” William said in the softest tone he could manage while still remaining audible over Tyler’s hyperventilating. “If you vomit again I don't want you aspirating it. Come now, in through the nose, five seconds, out through the mouth five seconds…”

Tyler’s head was in far too much of a whirl to consider how strange this was. This dangerous and aloof old man was actually answering his call for help. He was counseling, touching him to keep his attention, speaking softly and kindly.

Where was this man when Tyler was cowering in the bathtub the other night? 

Suddenly he felt his stomach start cramping up, and his mouth began filling with saliva. Tyler lurched forward and collapsed over the toilet again, but found only the burn of stomach bile coming up into his throat. He coughed violently and sobbed, his fingers clutching his own scalp and threatening to pull out his hair.

William gently took Tyler’s wrists and guided them downward, his touch far more of a reminder than a command. And after that, he stood and turned on the shower next to the both of them, turning only the cold tap on.

“I need you awake for this, flower.”

“ _WHY?_ ” Tyler almost choked on that word, not even aware that his nose was running. All he could focus on was the fact that nothing felt like it was in the right place. Like all of his parts had been put together wrong. Like they were going to vibrate apart in any second. 

“Because if you fall asleep, I may not be able to bring you back.”

The younger one whipped his gaze upward, tears stinging horrendously against his cheeks. 

William barely blinked as he spoke, intent on keeping Tyler’s eyes on him. “I can call an ambulance now, if that's what you want. But I would also be leaving you. And I cannot guarantee that they would not have questions once they determine your identity.”

His tears dried up almost instantly. No. He can't. The last thing he needed was anyone else knowing where he was. 

“Don't,” he wheezed. “Please. Can you… just help me…?”

William nodded. “I've done this before. And as difficult was it was, it worked.” A pained look came over him, made his eyelids shudder for a moment. He looked as if he wanted to say something else. But instead, he shook his head of the idea and placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, clutching him as the younger one started to go limp on him. “In the shower.”

Tyler felt himself fading into the aether, sinking into it like it was his own bed at home. “My clothes,” he mumbled automatically. His eyes were closing before he could stop them.

“Keep them on. Now. Quickly.”

Tyler nodded but was far too exhausted to even brace his hands on the floor to get up. They flopped uselessly against the tile. William abruptly grabbed Tyler by the armpits and pulled him up with a surprising amount of strength. Before Tyler could react, he was in the bathtub, shrieking and flailing as the cold water cascaded over his entire body. 

It was going to be a long night, to be sure.


End file.
